My Other Lover
by itsu-sual
Summary: A collection of drabbles set in the movie-verse, accompanying the fic "My Little Lover" and featuring various characters and pairings. Rated T for safety.
1. Son

**Son**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Galvatron, mention of Megatron/Starscream  
**Timeline:** Future AU sort of thing

I know this was already in "My Little Lover", but I felt it was a good starting point for "My Other Lover" too :D  
I thought it was about time I looked at some other characters in the 2007 movie-verse, and I was inspired by Demyrie's offshoot from her fic "Odd Couple", "Odd Moments", to do this.

* * *

The titanic mech rips the navy Autobot's throat out, energon spattering over him as he howls with laughter.

Over by the wall, the younger scout watches his companion die with terror, his own memory files flashing before his processor. He regards the cackling mech with a mixture of horror and fear - black, sharp armour glinting (almost dark purple) in the pale light. The Decepticon (has to be, the scout thinks, no Autobot has teeth like that) bares his fangs, pointed and longer than even Megatron's.

Megatron…? No, the scout thinks, as the black mech abruptly stops laughing and turns to stare curiously at the remaining Autobot, huddled against the wall. Megatron never had wings, angled downwards and draped back like some sort of cape. The helm, it has to be said, is remarkably similar, if slightly more intimidating in black. A single, silver marking, like some sort of tattoo, hangs over his optics in old Cybertronian.

"A…aren't you going to kill me?" the red scout asks, intending it as a challenge but coming out with far more surprise than he'd hoped. The Decepticon just starts laughing again, and briefly, the scout wonders again if it _is_ Megatron and the defeated warlord has finally lost his circuits.

"No," he answers suddenly, the howling laughter stopping as quickly as it came. He flexes his claws pensively. "You can run along to your little…_Autobot_ friends," he spits with disgust, "and you can give them a message for me." He leans down close, red optics boring into the shivering blue ones.

"You tell them…that Galvatron, son of Megatron and Starscream, has come for revenge. Now," he straightens up, waving a hand dismissively with a crooked smile, "_run._"


	2. Revenge

**Revenge**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Soundwave, Ravage  
**Timeline:** Pre-war

* * *

The cold silence of space was a welcome escape for him.

Hanging in the void, on the edge of Cybertron's gravitational pull, Soundwave felt peace. The occasional radio wave tickled the underside of his sensors, while the background radiation of space thrummed against him, but it was nothing compared to the shrieking noise of Cybertron. He was quite content to simply drift there for stellar cycles at a time, until at last he fell back into the weak atmosphere of the planet below him. His creations slept peacefully within his chest. All was well.

"_Get your slaggin' pet out from underneath my feet!_"

Ravage stirred with an unhappy hum. The reason why Soundwave had retreated into orbit was still fresh in her young processor. The navy mech onlined his optics, dim and weary, at the feeling. His spark pulsed reassuringly, and discontent Ravage settled back inside him.

What could he have said? To reveal that Ravage was, in fact, his creation and not a symbiote as everyone believed, would have been disastrous. No, he'd simply glared at the mech, tucked Ravage back into her compartment and resolved to corrupt every one of the mech's personal files. He rarely used his talents for hacking, far more accustomed to simply sifting through information than tampering with it, but the insult to his daughter had been enough to spur him into action.

The mech was ruined.

Still…his revenge had been unsatisfying. It changed nothing; Soundwave still had to hide his splitspark nature. His creations still had to hide within his body, or under the guise of symbiotes (disgraceful). His sparklings shuddered within his chest, and he sighed.

With a twitch of his thrusters, he let himself descend back into Cybertron, ten-tonne weight dropping like a stone.


	3. Punishment

**Punishment**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Cyclonus, Galvatron  
**Timeline:** Post-ROTF, sparklings AU

I always imagine Cyclonus to be Galvatron's long-suffering sidekick.  
At least that's what I gathered from G1, but he seems pretty miserable in TFA too XD You may want to read "Arrival" in "My Little Lover" before reading this drabble.

* * *

Cyclonus was rarely punished, because he rarely did anything wrong. On the few occasions that he did commit some form of misdemeanour, he managed to successfully hide his crimes.

This was not such an occasion. Skywarp had caught him trying to cover up the shattered datapad, and accordingly sent him to the lower levels of the Nemesis to sit in silence for the next few cycles. The punishment was less to do with breaking the pad, and more to do with being caught - Decepticons, Thundercracker had said, must learn to be sneaky. The purple sparkling sighed deeply, the noise echoing around the corridor. A steady drip-drop of leaking fuel rattled somewhere ahead.

"Boo," snapped a familiar voice.

Cyclonus turned his head dispassionately to see a taller, black sparkling staring at him intently. "Master Galvatron," Cyclonus greeted him coolly. "What brings you to this level?"

Galvatron rolled his optics and scrunched up his faceplates, looking remarkably like Starscream when he did so. With an irritable hiss, he collapsed next to Cyclonus. "You, stupid," he growled. "And I thought I told you to stop calling me 'Master' Galvatron." He reached over to run a claw along one of the horns adorning Cyclonus' helm. When it elicited no reaction, he huffed his vents and started prodding half-formed, lilac wings.

"Please leave me to my punishment," sighed Cyclonus, frowning ever so slightly. "I must learn my lesson."

The black face next to him split into a huge grin, leaning forward until they were almost nose to nose. "_No_." With that, Galvatron stood, grabbing Cyclonus' shoulder and dragging him along behind him. "The _lesson_," Galvatron continued with glee, "is that I won't be denied. And, since I _am_ your superior, when I want to play, it's time to play."

Really, Cyclonus supposed as he was dragged away from his corner, it was a punishment all of its own.


	4. Flying

**Flying**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Cyclonus/Galvatron  
**Timeline:** Post-ROTF, sparklings AU

In which flying lessons fail miserably, Galvatron is a brat, and Cyclonus is slightly out of character.  
By the way, just like in "My Little Lover", please feel free to leave one word prompts for me! You can also suggest characters or pairings you'd like to see. If they inspire me, I'll use them.

* * *

After crashing for the third time that cycle, Galvatron didn't even bother to get up.

Soon after he'd collided with the surface of Europa, Cyclonus transformed and landed elegantly beside him. "Galvatron?" the purple youngling said softly, vocalizer betraying a rare hint of worry. The black flier twitched, a low growl forming in his throat.

"This is _your_ fault!" he snarled suddenly, sitting up and jabbing a claw towards Cyclonus in one violent movement. The younger flier raised an optic ridge in response, wondering what strange conclusion Galvatron's logic chip had arrived at _this_ time. "Stop being better than me! It's…it's distracting!"

Cyclonus resisted the urge to roll his optics. Despite being Starscream's son, Galvatron had inherited most of Megatron's body structure. And, although the Decepticon Commander could take on jet modes as he pleased, his bulkier mass did not lend itself to flight like Starscream's body did - something the Decepticon heir hadn't quite figured out yet. In contrast, both of Cyclonus' creators were Seekers, and the flier felt perfectly at ease in the sky.

"I am not trying to be 'better than you'," said Cyclonus, taking Galvatron's hand into his own and rubbing it soothingly.

"Then what _are_ you trying to do?" Galvatron grumbled, grudgingly allowing himself to be comforted.

Cyclonus smiled softly to himself. "I am trying to be as good as Starscream," he replied. He raised Galvatron's claw to his mouth and kissed it gently, head bowed, choosing his next words with care. "After all…I am related to him too, however distant the connection may be. Let me have this one goal, dear friend."

Galvatron stared critically at the violet youngling, optics locking on the small, curved smile he wore on his mouthplates. Somewhere in the back of his processor, he dearly wished Cyclonus would smile like that more often.

"Very well," he sniffed haughtily, standing and dusting himself off. "You're allowed to be better at flying than me. But in return, you have to be _my_ Air Commander."

Cyclonus' smile grew in response. Galvatron couldn't ask for much more than that.


	5. Frankenstein

**Frankenstein**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Lockdown  
**Timeline:** ...I really don't know D:

I think I saw the design for movie!Lockdown the other day, so I wanted to write one about him! This drabble is mostly an exploration into how his "trophies" would work in the movie universe.  
(About the title, I know Frankenstein was the name of the scientist, not the monster, but....y'know.)

* * *

He flexed his arm, the rust-coloured metal shifting easily into a liquid state. It bubbled and twisted to rearrange itself, until it prickled into a row of long, thin spikes.

It was said that the all-spark blessed every Cybertronian with unique abilities. Sure. He could believe that. And who was he to refuse a gift? Lockdown made _damn_ good use of his talents. The metal hardened with a jerk of his shoulder, and the bounty hunter looked down at the chainsaw (rogue Constructicon, Polyhex, two centuries ago) on his arm appreciatively. His face split into a grin, letting his optics flicker to the hook on his other arm (rebel leader, Kaon, five centuries ago).

Lockdown stooped towards his quarry with a stagger. With one quick slice, the chainsaw came down on the dead mech's arm, and the cannon once attached to it rolled away. The bounty hunter snatched it up with his hook hurriedly - it wouldn't do to leave it too long, after all.

The chainsaw melted away, peeling back and upwards to reveal the clawed, gnarled fingers of his original protoform. He moved to rest his (real) hand lightly on the still-sparking cannon. A faint hiss, and the cannon began to melt, dripping onto his hook and transforming into its basest, protoform metal. Lockdown sighed contentedly, raising his arm up for the new liquid metal to seep into his joints.

He waited a moment, silently calibrating, adjusting, assimilating, while laser fire still echoed from the other side of the battlefield. Then, with a lazy flick of his wrist, the cannon (military general, Darkmount, one minute ago) formed.

Damn good use indeed.


	6. Widow

**Widow**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Prowl/Jazz, Prowl/Lockdown  
**Timeline:** Post 2007 movie

This one is for Demyrie. I HAD to give it a go to see if it would work XD I leave it to the readers to decide if it did or not.  
This drabble kind of mutated into a full-on oneshot, but I thought it was necessary for the story. Prowl only appears in "ROTF: Defiance" and Lockdown is only a toy design so far, so it gave me a lot of freedom.

I imagine this movie-Prowl to have been like TFA Prowl when he was younger, but then settled into the stony G1 personality as he grew older (you'll see why when you read it).

* * *

Twelve galaxies away, he felt it.

Prowl refreshed his optics. He'd expected it to be painful, or perhaps, that he would offline the same instant Jazz did. But instead, he only felt some sort of dull surprise, and a large, empty hole in his spark. Jazz was gone. His spark would extinguish soon, too.

Logic took over. Surprise faded. They'd been separated for thousands of years - of course it would take a while for him to join the Allspark. Even now, he could feel his sparkbeat was beginning to slow.

The officer was grateful, in a way, that he would have time to put his affairs in order. With his signature formality, he passed command over to Blaster, excused himself from service, and took a small, barely-working cruiser out into space.

He would die with dignity, alone, at the very least.

* * *

After twenty-four solar cycles of drifting aimlessly, it became apparent to Prowl that he would not be dying anytime soon.

It was unfortunate, in that it left him with a large amount of time to reflect upon his life, to simply listen with a growing horror as his core pulsed slower and slower. Even worse that Jazz's last words to him were on a loop in his processor.

"_It's better this way, Prowler. We need some space, some time away from each other._"

The war had torn them apart, certainly. But in truth, it had begun long before that. Where once they complemented the other, where once they were two parts of a whole, they simply became _too_ different. So Jazz followed Optimus to the front lines, and Prowl disappeared into the background.

"_It's better this way._"

On the lonely floor of his space-cruiser, Prowl curled into a ball. He just didn't love Jazz anymore - not like he used to. And with that painful realization came guilt: that he was not grieving for his dead bondmate. That, honestly, he wasn't as sad as he should've been. That if he had followed Optimus too, Jazz might still be alive, at least. That his thoughts kept wandering to the mech he had turned down for Jazz.

And most of all, that he didn't really want to die.

* * *

Sixty solar cycles later, energon dangerously low and sparkbeat at a fifth of its usual pace, Prowl gave in to his dizzy processor.

"_One day you'll regret it, darlin'._"

He twitched. Those old memories, so carefully locked away, were unravelling one by one. If he offlined his optics, the gaunt white faceplates were glaring at him, snarling 'I told you so'. In the end, the bounty-hunter had been right. He'd sacrificed excitement for safety, allowed himself to give in to his logic core and become so very, very stale. And for what? To die alone on the floor of a broken space-cruiser?

"_Think you'll be happy, all safe an' cosy in his berth, doin' the same damn thing at your dead-end job every cycle?_"

With the last energy he could muster, Prowl dragged himself to the dashboard, defeated. Keying in that _damned_ frequency, he punched in a distress signal, co-ordinates, and a short message before passing out.

"I'm not ready to die."

* * *

"Stupid slaggin'...no good...the pit's wrong with...fraggin' idiotic..."

For a moment, Prowl wondered if he was reliving an old memory. Then the rest of him ground online. Something (someone?) was holding him, pushing an energon cube to his lips. His optics booted up last, dimly staring up into a white scowl - until a warning flashed over his optics, obscuring everything with the message that his sparkbeat was pulsing at only a tenth now.

"D-dy...ing," he croaked weakly.

"Like _hell_ you are," spat Lockdown, shoving the cube at him roughly before continuing to curse vehemently. The former Autobot officer spluttered, raising an arm helplessly to try and push the bounty hunter away. In the corner of his optic, he caught a glimpse of the greying armour of his hand. With his systems so run-down, there was no other way to explain his situation to the larger mech.

His chest split open, revealing the pale, faint and now very small spark housed in his chamber.

Lockdown froze. Everything fell into place. The broken cruiser, the weak energy signal, the distress call. Jazz was dead (how Prowl had survived this long was beyond him). So Prowl had called the only other mech he'd ever considered bonding with. Slowly, the bounty hunter's face split into a grin, peering down victoriously at the one trophy he'd never managed to capture.

The bounty hunter opened his own spark chamber obligingly, but not before leaning down to whisper in Prowl's audios obnoxiously;

"_Told ya so._"


	7. First

**First**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Galvatron/Cyclonus  
**Timeline:** Post-ROTF sparklings AU

After that last chapter I needed to write something fluffy. So this happened.  
Ah, like father, like son, Galvatron XD

* * *

Their first kiss was awkward, to say the least.

In one brash movement, Galvatron grabbed onto Cyclonus' horns and pulled him inwards, smashing his teeth violently against the purple youngling's mouth. The younger struggled and thrashed in his friend's grip, scratching and punching at black armour until at last, Galvatron let go, looking - not smug, nor grinning wickedly, as Cyclonus expected - sheepish and confused.

"What the _slag_ was _that_?" spat the Seeker, rubbing his sore lip plating.

For a moment, Cyclonus could have sworn Galvatron looked almost hurt, but the expression vanished as soon as it came, replaced with an ugly scowl. "It was a kiss, you moron," Galvatron hissed back, clenching his fists.

The lilac flier stared at him, dumbfounded. "That's not how you kiss!" shrieked Cyclonus, his usual calm shattered.

"But," Galvatron began, this time looking genuinely confused, "that's how Megatron kisses Starscream. How do your creators do it then?"

"Uh, they, um..." Cyclonus looked away shyly. "Like...like this." He shuffled gingerly towards Galvatron, leaning up to place his lip components, very softly, against Galvatron's. With clenched optics, he looped his arms over black shoulders. The Decepticon heir considered this a moment, before pressing back hesitantly, placing his claws on Cyclonus' hips.

The Seeker pulled away first, clearing his vents (if only to fill the silence), and this time, Galvatron really was grinning wickedly.

Their second kiss, mused the black Decepticon, was altogether more pleasant.


	8. Immovable

**Immovable**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Prowl/Lockdown, hinted Prowl/Jazz  
**Timeline:** Like a million zillion years before the drabble "Widow".

I had a lot of fun writing the drabble "widow", so I decided to try this pairing again. It was going to be a "why do the good girls always like the bad boys?" kind of thing, but then suddenly the irresistable force paradox popped up and it all went horribly wrong.  
Man, I thought trying to make Starscream/Megatron believable was hard work, but this pairing is twice as complicated!

* * *

"You're leaving again, aren't you?" Prowl said softly.

The bounty hunter didn't turn from his work to give any reaction, nor did he make any sound of acknowledgement, but the young Autobot was sure Lockdown had heard him. He was hunched over some stray part of his ship, each hand transformed into a different tool (whose, Prowl always wondered with morbid curiosity?). The large mismatched mech was probably frowning in concentration with that bone white face of his - the only modification he never changed. He'd asked, once, who that face had belonged to; Lockdown only looked away, humming uneasily, lost in a memory.

"You only just got back to Cybertron," continued Prowl.

"Gotta make a living somehow, kid," Lockdown grunted. He shook one arm violently, liquid metal swirling into the shape of a drill, and Prowl couldn't help shuddering at the awful sight.

The Autobot sighed, white plating huddling in on itself. "I won't wait forever, you know."

Lockdown stopped. The two were silent. "Never asked you to," he rumbled. A pause. He flicked his hands back into the customary hook and claw, turning to look Prowl in the face. "Never gonna stop doin' this. Not until they kill me. Maybe not even then. So you either come with, or you go back to that Jazz kid. You wait around. Maybe you'll see me. Maybe you won't."

The white mech's dark, grey face took on a cold expression. "I will not give up my career, my home and my friends just to follow you like a stray cyberdog," Prowl retorted icily.

"And I got too much pride to give up bounty huntin', trophies and the nomad life for a li'l snob like you," countered Lockdown with a grin, but his red optics were distant. Irresistible force meets immovable object; neither would concede to the other. "You just think on that, darlin'. Meanwhile, I got a bounty to catch. Be back in a stellar cycle."

Left hanging between them, the unspoken, _then maybe, I'll ask you again_.


	9. Crave

**Crave**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Skywarp/Thundercracker, mentioned Starscream/Megatron in the background  
**Timeline:** Post-ROTF sparklings AU. Related to the drabble "arrival" in "My Little Lover".

Thank you to everyone who has left reviews and prompts! A few have inspired me but need some work. Meanwhile, a lighthearted drabble that I couldn't find a decent title for, since I wrote it with the scenario in mind and not a specific word.

* * *

"I _want_ one."

The simple sentence came a mere second after a flash of purple light announced Skywarp's presence. Thundercracker peered up at his mate placidly. "Want one what, Skywarp?" the grey Seeker asked. It wasn't uncommon for the black and purple flier to have sudden (and usually daft) ideas, all of which he insisted on dragging his bonded into.

"Starscream is carrying. _I want one too_," hissed Skywarp, an intense and somewhat crazed look in his optics.

"Oh," Thundercracker said lightly, "yes, I've always wanted a sparkling too. It would be nice." He turned back to the console he was working at, considering the matter closed. Skywarp didn't warp away. Or go about his business. Or move. At all. Thundercracker looked back up at Skywarp with a slight frown. "…I thought we discussed this a long time ago? You asked me if I wanted sparklings before we bonded. I said yes, remember?"

"You're not quite getting it, are you?" the black Seeker said blankly. "I, Skywarp, want a sparkling with you, Thundercracker, and I want one _now_."

Ah. Thundercracker really had no words for that.

"Sweetspark…" groaned the older flier. "There are so, _so_ many reasons that this is one of your bad ideas. One, we're in the middle of a war. Two, we don't have enough energon as it is. Three, Lord Megatron will kill us. Four, you're probably just reacting to Starscream's altered energy signals. Five, Megatron really, really will kill us. Six-"

"Starscream is carrying!" interrupted Skywarp indignantly.

Patience wearing thin, Thundercracker huffed a burst of air through his vents. "Yes, by _accident_."

His bondmate's wicked smile made him immediately regret saying so. "Perhaps," Skywarp purred, "we can have a little accident of our own, hmm?"

The oh-so-familiar heavy feeling that told him he was fighting a losing battle with his mate washed over the blue-grey flier, and he sighed deeply. Even as they spoke, his logic core was still producing results as to why this was Skywarp's worst idea ever (five hundred and forty-six reasons so far). But the kicked puppy expression had been brought into play, and the black flier's optics were so very glittery, and his pout was so very cute, and _Primus damn it all_ Thundercracker could deny Skywarp nothing.

"Megatron's never gonna believe this one…"


	10. Young

**Young**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Soundwave, Blaster, Ravage  
**Timeline:** Pre-war, pre-2007 movie

This prompt was from Lucy Sumeragui! I'm not sure this is quite what you were looking for, but I've written this drabble about five times, and when I saw the prompt, it fit so perfectly and I finally knew how to make it work!  
This drabble flips between past and present a bit. I hope you can still understand it.

PS: I've been having some technical trouble with this fic recently. Chapters keep disappearing and reappearing, if anyone knows how to fix this, please help!

* * *

He was young when his spark first split.

Far too young to carry, far too young to be a creator, Soundwave collapsed in the middle of a busy road. The medics extinguished his first creation before he had even come back online. He was never given a choice.

"_Please_," begs the young red mech. "Please, help me."

The navy satellite's creators were bitterly disappointed in him. Unfitting of their high status. Taught him better than to sparkbond so recklessly. If Soundwave wouldn't admit who had done this to him, fine - they would just have to move him to another city. He never bothered to correct them, nor tell them that there _was_ no other mech.

"You can help me," the smaller, crimson satellite pleads. "I know you can. I can hear them, inside you."

The second split came a hundred stellar cycles later, and this time, he was ready. Ravage was young and tiny, and easy to keep hidden beneath his plating. He chose a feline form for his little daughter; and when she became too big for him to carry, he would tell his creators that he found her, pretending she was an adopted pet.

"I dunno who else to go to," Blaster sobs quietly.

In the dead of night, Soundwave looks down at the distraught mech on his doorstep, two very distinct spark pulses beating softly under scruffy, red plating. Like a ghost of the past come to haunt him, in the same alt-mode, with the same problem, the same age. His creations stir inside him, thrumming with sympathy for the red satellite, and that settles it. He won't allow this splitspark to have their first born taken away from them. He won't allow the medics to touch this one.

Soundwave stands aside, a sweeping gesture with one claw welcoming Blaster inside his home. "Come in."


	11. Split

**Split**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Soundwave/Blaster  
**Timeline:** Pre-2007 movie

Hooray for cross-faction romances? I don't have much to say about this one.

* * *

The first thing Soundwave saw was the sigil.

He flinched, reflexively releasing a panicked burst of telepathy. The sparklings - both his own and the seated, red mech's - reeled, but Blaster deflected it easily. He'd learnt from the master, after all. The younger satellite merely stiffened in his seat, baby blue optics boring into Soundwave's visor accusingly.

"I...I apologize," the Decepticon Communications Officer said after a while. "Reflex."

Blaster nodded, glare softening.

"What is the meaning of this?" Soundwave demanded stiffly, jabbing a claw towards the newly embossed Autobot sigil.

"I don't agree with Lord Megatron," Blaster replied, straight to the point. "I'm not bringin' my sparklings into a war. Figured you'd understand, bein' a splitspark too an' all," he continued pointedly.

The silent implication was not missed on the navy satellite. "_Ridiculous_," he hissed. "Risk of harm to sparklings in field of information is minimal."

"Minimal, but there," Blaster said firmly. "I've made up my mind."

Outraged, tendrils of furious telepathy began to radiate from Soundwave's frame. "How could you?" rasped Soundwave. The only mech he'd ever let into his life - and there they stood with that wretched red face etched onto their plating.

The invisible touches brushed along Blaster's frame, and his optics narrowed once more in silent warning. "You're pushin' it." The feeling retreated, clouding around Soundwave's elegant frame. "I love you, Soundwave. You know that. But it's always been sparklings first. Now is no different."

He stood, walking to stand chest to chest with the statue-still telepath. Slowly, awkwardly, he leaned up to place a kiss on Soundwave's lip components, and it was a moment before the taller mech grudgingly returned it.

"_Stay safe, lovely_," Blaster whispered over their bond, then quietly broke the kiss and left.


	12. Candy

**Candy**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Soundwave, Galvatron, Cyclonus, Howlback  
**Timeline:** Post-ROTF sparklings AU

Prompt from BitterSweetDrug!  
Awww I love Parent!Soundwave so much. I felt kinda sorry for him after Ravage died in the movie. Then I was looking through old prompts, and "Candy" caught my eye, and this happened. You may wish to re-read "62. Arrival" if you're wondering where the hell Howlback came from. Surprisingly, not an OC, but an old Ravage repaint.

* * *

Soundwave watches patiently as Galvatron chases Cyclonus around his feet. He'll have to intervene eventually; the young Decepticon heir gets so terribly worked up (yet _another_ awful trait inherited from his parents). The purple sparkling is whining, growing more irritable by the moment. Not that Galvatron seems to care.

Then the buzzer pings, and Soundwave clears his vents to catch their attention. "Energon treats; ready for consumption," he informs them, and the chase stops as quickly as it started. Megatron's son squeals with excitement, and even calm, emotionless Cyclonus bounces up and down on his pedes. The satellite pops a pink one into his mouth experimentally, crushing the sickly sweet orb between his dental plating. Just right. He divides the small, circular treats into three piles, distributing one to each of the tiny fliers.

Almost instantly, Galvatron tries to pilfer from Cyclonus' pile, but that isn't Soundwave's current concern. The telepath peers around the room, humming worriedly.

"Howlback?"

Hesitantly, a small sparkling peers around the door, armour the same shade of blue as his own. The cat-like creature stares warily at the noisy hatchlings (now brawling on the floor for possession of an unusually large energon treat), then skitters around the corners of the room to hide behind her creator's legs. Soundwave's visor softens, and he bends to pick her up, easily holding his youngest child in one claw.

"Situation; under control," he murmurs, handing her a sweet. Still too small to speak, she purrs in reply. Like a mini Ravage, Soundwave thinks, and he hopes he isn't too far off - it was always his personal belief that, should his creations die, they would be reunited not with the All-Spark, but with his own splitspark. Howlback, alt-mode almost an exact replica of Soundwave's first daughter, gnaws happily on the treat.

For the first time since Ravage's death in battle, the Communications Officer feels peace.


	13. Charming

**Charming**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Lockdown, Prowl (future Prowl/Lockdown if you squint)  
**Timeline:** Pre-War

Charming, as in "Prince Charming" (or "Knight in Shining Armour", if you could ever call Lockdown that XD).  
This one's a bit longer than usual. It was one of those drabbles that really wanted to be a complete oneshot, so I'm sorry if the ending feels a bit sudden. I was wondering how someone like Prowl would meet a shady character like Lockdown in this universe, therefore, drabble time.

Please review! As ever, prompts are welcome but will only be used if they give me inspiration or ideas.

* * *

He'd taken a wrong turn, somewhere.

Prowl checked his chronometer. Almost a cycle late! And still, he had no idea where he was. Somehow he'd found himself on the rough side of Iacon, with no GPS reception to speak of. The young Autobot had tried (and failed) to get directions from a number of shady looking mechs, all of whom either ignored him or swore violently in his face. He cycled a sigh through his vents, trying to get a signal on his comm.-link, but still, nothing. Jazz would be worried by now, surely - Prowl made a point of _never_ being late. There was nothing for it; he turned into a side street and entered the first bar he saw, hoping for directions -

- and crashed right into a very large mech, holding a drink. In horrified silence, Prowl saw the shattered energon cube on the ground. The mismatched body parts. The hook, spikes and studs. And looming above him, the white, smirking face.

"Well, well," the mech rumbled, clearly amused. "What's a pretty li'l thing like you doin' in a dump like this?"

Prowl spluttered and stuttered, instinctively taking a step backwards. "I…I-I'm sorry about your energon!" he burst out, grasping onto the first coherent thought his processor spat out. "I'll buy you a new one!"

The tall mech barked with laughter, and somewhere inside him, Prowl felt circuits overheating with embarrassment. "Don't you worry about that, kid," chuckled the jigsaw mech. The white Autobot flinched, horrified, as he clapped him on the shoulder with an oversized black claw. "Name's Lockdown."

"P-Prowl," he replied, belatedly realizing that this 'Lockdown' was the first person to show some semblance of friendliness in this part of Iacon. "I…I'm lost."

"I can see that, darlin'," drawled Lockdown, pushing him back outside the bar, and Prowl stiffened at the endearment. "Now where're you _s'posed_ to be?"

"Iacon, sector three, district two," Prowl recited hopefully.

Lockdown laughed all the harder. "Primus only knows how you ended up in sector ten," he chortled, walking away, and for a moment Prowl feared he would be left to find his own way again. Then the lanky mech peered over his broad, spiked shoulder, and grinned. "C'mon, kid. You stick with me an' I'll getcha outta here."

As it turned out, Prowl stuck with Lockdown an awful lot longer than the time it took to travel from sector ten to three.


	14. Perfect

**Perfect**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** One-sided Barricade/Bumblebee  
**Timeline:** 2007 movie

Dragolover1 mentioned this pairing in a review and I suddenly remembered "oh hey, I like that pairing, don't I?" XD  
I'm sorry I couldn't think of anything yet for the prompt you gave me, but I hope you like this drabble anyway.  
Thank you to everyone who has left reviews, they make me so happy when I read them!

* * *

Barricade sees those baby-blue optics and that sunny, yellow paintjob and instantly wants to _smash_ something.

Oh, he's seen the scout before, alright. Every day, for so many days on Cybertron, during his time at the academy. The happy little mech (teacher's pet) who was too sociable for his own good, who got back up with a smile every time you knocked him down (and _oh_ what fun it was to try and keep him down). It never mattered to Bumblebee. Why would it, surrounded by so many friends and loved ones? Why would it, when his life was so perfect?

Punch after scratch after kick after blow after curse after sneer. He'd tried so hard to be the one imperfection in the golden youngling's life, to be some part of the scout's untouchable world, however miserable and small. Perhaps it was jealousy. Perhaps it was the only way he knew how to be.

It irritates the pit out of Barricade that, of so many of their naive, inexperienced generation wiped out by the war, _Bumblebee_ had to survive. He's tempted to ignore his mission objectives and just squash the ugly human boy, knowing the yellow Autobot has taken such a liking to him (and some nasty, hidden part of him asks, _why not me?_). But Starscream needs those glasses, and Primus knows the Air Commander is pissy enough as it is.

Then the tables turn, and Barricade lies sparking and battered on the ground, staring up at those baby-blue optics, that sunny, yellow paintjob. Bumblebee dusts his hands off, innocent face hardened with war as he throws a distasteful glare in the police car's direction.

"Why?" Barricade chokes through static. "Why won'ttt you just-t stay dddown?"

The Autobot's eyes soften, and his radio crackles sweetly, "_Hope_."


	15. Transplant

**Transplant**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Lockdown/Prowl  
**Timeline:** Post 2007 movie

This takes place almost straight after the drabble "Widow".

* * *

A habit formed over millions of stellar cycles, Prowl suppresses the bond in his spark as he wakes up. He doesn't want to wake Jazz, too.

…Jazz? No, different now. That bond is gone, and a new one pulses strong and overwhelming within his spark chamber. Prowl snaps open his optics, and finds himself on the floor (typical!) where Lockdown left him. It is, at least, more comfortable than the floor of his broken space cruiser, and he can feel the warmth and life of the ship buzzing beneath him.

The bounty hunter sits at the controls of his ship, swaying his chair from side to side uneasily. He rubs at his chest every now and then, as if to check that the bond is still there, before grimacing. Prowl pricks at the edges of their connection, and Lockdown's hidden doubts and worries flood into him like energon. Thousands of cycles apart, then bonded out of necessity. Would they still be the same mechs the other knew so long ago, or would Lockdown come to regret not letting him die? Prowl wonders, absently, how long he'll be able to get away with this before the black mech figures out how to use the bond too.

Then he spots the larger mech's other arm, and his vents hitch.

Lockdown spins around at the noise, a white arm attached to his elbow. The (former?) Autobot looks down sharply at his own arm, to find most of it missing from the shoulder down; yet, instead of disgust, all he feels is some vague sense of annoyance.

"Plating was dead," Lockdown explains, looking away awkwardly. "Had to…y'know. To keep it alive. I'll reattach it to ya when you're functionin' a hundred percent again."

"Thank you," Prowl says softly, surprised at how _normal_ this all suddenly seems, and they both know his gratitude isn't just for the arm.


	16. Weakness

**Weakness**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Galvatron, Cyclonus  
**Timeline:** Post ROTF sparklings AU

I'm having another one of those moments where I _swear_ someone gave this to me as a prompt once, but it could have been for "My Little Lover" instead. Anyway, please review and let me know what you think.

* * *

As far as Galvatron could recall, this was the first time he had ever seen Cyclonus cry. And he didn't like it one bit.

The purple youngling's left wing had torn during training, the circuits sparking and wires hanging loose precariously. He _screamed_, the sound not quite so piercing as Galvatron's mother's voice, but awful enough that the black youngling shuddered. His own down-turned wings twinged in sympathy. While optic fluid streamed down faceplates scrunched up in agony, a flash of purple light announced Skywarp's presence, Thundercracker following close behind.

The older fliers scooped up their child, huddling around him with comforting clicks and chirps while Galvatron watched, baffled. This was not parental love as he knew it, like broken glass and gunfire. This was gentle, soothing...weak.

"Never cry," Megatron had ordered him once, when he had broken his hand. "Never show weakness."

"What hurts you will only make you stronger," Starscream added smoothly, and at the time Galvatron didn't understand the look on his mother's faceplates as the Air Commander's optics flickered upwards towards his father. And if his parents (loved, respected, _loathed _by their creation) agreed on something, it was an absolute truth.

Cyclonus cried on, even as Thundercracker comm.-ed a medic. The detached calm that Galvatron liked so much was nowhere to be found, and he contorted his face into a grimace. What use was a blubbering Decepticon? This was a lesson the older fliers had failed to instill in Cyclonus, and the black youngling resolved to correct this.

"Turn off your pain receptors," Galvatron barked coldly, and all three Seekers stopped, silent, to stare at him. Cyclonus' tears ended with a surprised hiccup. "_Never_ let me see you cry again."


	17. Nephew

**Nephew**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Galvatron, Optimus Prime  
**Timeline:** Post ROTF sparklings AU

In which the leader of the Autobots makes the unfortunate discovery that his brother has reproduced XD

* * *

Optimus knows, with one glance, that the hissing, spitting sparkling in his hold is his nephew.

The tiny black Decepticon clicks angrily, shrieking mangled curses he shouldn't even know. He bites down on the Prime's fingers with miniature teeth, but the hatchling is far too small for it to hurt. Optimus watches his little nephew patiently, waiting for the sparkling to calm. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of jet engines roaring across the sky - the Seekers are looking for Megatron's child. No matter. The Autobot leader could never find it in him to kill a sparkling, much less one of his own (estranged) family, even if it _has_ just started screaming loudly.

Then it clicks, and Optimus knows _exactly_ who the bearer of this sparkling was. Even the outraged expression on the little black mech's face matches Starscream's perfectly. He moves to dangle the sparkling by the scruff plates, inspecting what is essentially a miniature version of his brother with wings. Then he notices the symbol; scratched in silver over the hatchling's eye.

"'Galvatron'," Prime reads softly, and on hearing his name the Decepticon abruptly stops yelling. The sparkling glares up at him belligerently, as if he cannot quite place who Optimus is, but something in his core programming remembers family. The large Autobot is unfamiliar, and even at this young age Galvatron knows that the red sigil isn't to be trusted. So instead, he simply bares his fangs.

Optimus chuckles to himself, setting Galvatron down on the ground. "Tell Megatron to take better care of you," he says pleasantly. "Little Decepticons shouldn't wander into Autobot territory." Instead of toddling away, the black hatchling glowers at him for a moment, face scrunched up in thought.

Then he spits at his uncle's feet and runs, cackling, towards the welcoming sound of Seekers.


	18. Trophy

**Trophy**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Lockdown/Prowl  
**Timeline:** Post 2007 movie

Alternatively titled "OCD". I imagine that, being alone for so long, Lockdown is another one of those characters that has no idea how to be normal in a relationship. Carries on from the other Lockdown/Prowl drabbles.

* * *

Lockdown carries him, bridal style, to the workshop. Prowl allows it; he feels, after all, that he owes something to the bounty hunter for saving his life. Compliance is the least he can offer.

For the second time that stellar cycle, Prowl is laid down on Lockdown's workbench, and he smiles softly up at the tall, twitchy mech. He closes his optics, patient, listening to the sound of limbs transforming and twisting into the hands of a medic. The ritual begins.

Like some sort of treasured prize, Lockdown begins by polishing him. Prowl keeps himself clean and shiny, but the scruffy hunter's double-standards are impossibly high. Plate by plate, piece by piece, he deconstructs Prowl, setting the white armour down with obsessive accuracy, all right angles and equal distances apart. He inspects every circuit he can reach. Even the smallest speck of dust is not tolerated, and Lockdown grunts irritably to himself each time he finds one. He mutters under his breath, wishing Prowl would take better care of himself, and Prowl only sighs at his odd mate's hypocrisy.

This is, Prowl has learnt, a twisted sort of affection. The finest piece of the bounty hunter's trophy collection, Lockdown takes care of him in his own, worrying way. The former Autobot appreciates it, even as he fights against the idea of being just another object to the hunter.

Then Lockdown hesitates, and Prowl knows that this is the end of the ritual. Hands transform into their tired, original shapes, and carefully, the bounty hunter reaches out to stroke the white mech's spark chamber. He opens it, quickly - as if he is afraid that Prowl's spark will extinguish without its protective casing. One look, perhaps to remind himself that Prowl is a living, loving Cybertronian, then he snaps it shut. He sighs through his old vents at the sight, as if it is some great relief, and Prowl cannot help but pulse out reassurances to him through their bond. Lockdown ignores them, piecing Prowl's armour back together again.

"You'll do, I s'pose," Lockdown grumbles, optics glinting with a strange sort of love, and his small mate just smiles.


	19. Kid

**Kid**

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Lockdown/Prowl  
**Timeline:** Post 2007 movie

I've been away from fanfiction for so long. Reading Demyrie's "Odd Couple" recently (and waiting for updates D:) made me want to take another stab at this pairing. I'm not entirely happy with this drabble. I don't feel like I quite got across what I wanted to.

* * *

"Mornin', kid," Lockdown grunts sleepily as he stoops into the control room. Prowl smiles up at him, but doesn't reply, nor does he correct his mate and tell him that it is, in fact, the night cycle. He turns back to the datapad he sits reading, curled up easily in a Lockdown-size chair.

The bounty hunter flops into his seat at the control panel, sighing, weariness from a hard hunt still lingering in his circuits. He rests his eyes lazily on his mate, and vaguely in his spark, he can hear Prowl wondering whether to correct him about the cycle. It warms him that Prowl doesn't even notice the nickname anymore - "kid".

But, where once Prowl corrected him daily, he thinks, the name truly is wrong now. He watches Prowl's peaceful faceplates, the very picture of concentration, the tiny scratches on the former Autobot's plating, the movements slower than he remembers, aged joints - and it occurs to Lockdown that Prowl is now the same age the hunter was when they first met.

The white mech's optics flicker upwards at the tremor in their bond, and instantly, Lockdown tries to block it - something Prowl had quickly learned was less to do with a lack of trust, and more to do with a gruff way of saying "it's nothing, really". But Prowl, crafty and widowed once before, tiptoes around the barricade, and smiles in amusement at what he finds.

"Feeling old?" he teases from across the room. Lockdown scowls, inwardly baffled. The white mech's smile widens, and he pads delicately across the room to nestle himself in Lockdown's lap with the datapad. The bounty hunter grumbles irritably, one claw (from an Autobot general, fifty centuries ago) raising to pet absently at Prowl's helm.

He shutters his optics, a lifetime older than his mate's blue ones, and feels as if they never parted.


End file.
